In Wolf's Clothing
by ObsidianJade
Summary: Duty and Honor Series. Post Bonds of Honor, Ukitake and Kyouraku return to Karakura to look in on Starrk. They're a little surprised to find he remembers everything. (Gift-fic for IrisMustang, because I failed horribly at producing her kiriban and she never did forgive Kyouraku for killing Starrk. For that matter, neither did I.) BoH spoilers only through Ch29.


_Duty and Honor Series. Post Bonds of Honor, Ukitake and Kyouraku return to Karakura to look in on Starrk. They're a little surprised to find he remembers everything. (No Spoilers. No, the end of BoH has not yet been published, although it is fully drafted. I'm working on it.)  
_

_For Iris, because I failed terribly in producing her Kiriban, and she never did forgive Kyouraku for killing Starrk. I hope this helps on both counts, ;-)_

Translator's Notes:

Akio: Glorious hero/glorious man

Mari: Obstinate/rebellious [from the English 'Mary']

Kenshin - Modest truth (Although this is generally a given name, I think it would suit them as a family name, so I'm co-opting it.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Bleach. Kubo is a god, albeit a demented one, and I am merely playing in his world.

* * *

IN WOLF'S CLOTHING

* * *

For two of the oldest Shinigami Captains of the Gotei 13, subtlety was an elusive and difficult art.

When stuck in gigai and skulking around an area of town largely occupied by people under the age of twenty-five, subtlety was utterly out of the question.

"You would really be less obvious if you would change your shirt," Jyuushiro murmured, all but resting his chin on Shunsui's pink Hawaiian-shirt-clad shoulder as they walked in order to whisper in his partner's ear.

"And you'd be less obvious if you cut your hair and wore jeans like the rest of the town," Kyouraku murmured back, slinging an arm around Jyuushiro's shoulders and tugging playfully on a lock of hair that had escaped the thick silver-white braid. "Somehow, I don't see that happening, either."

"The jeans are a possibility," Jyuushiro allowed, his left hand tucked into the left hip pocket of Shunsui's jeans and his right into the pocket of his own khaki trousers. "But you'd never let me cut my hair."

"Just as you'd never let me cut mine," Kyouraku countered, beaming, and bumped his nose playfully against Ukitake's temple.

"So," drawled a voice from the door of the apartment building the duo were loitering in front of, startling both of them into jumping, with rather painful results, "are you two this insufferably affectionate at home, or only when you're out stalking people?"

"Stalking?" Kyouraku repeated, pinching his nose with his thumb and forefinger and blinking his watering eyes, while Ukitake rubbed ruefully at the side of his head. "That's quite an accusation to throw at someone you've never met, young man."

The grey eyes slid slowly from one of them to the other, cautious and weighing. It took a moment before the door opened further, and the young man behind it stepped out into the light.

Kyouraku's gasp was sharp enough to ruffle Ukitake's hair, and neither man could quite stop the shiver that coursed through their shoulders. The face was the same one they had faced over the Karakura battlefield; younger, certainly, but the wavy brown hair and scruff of whiskers hadn't changed any more than the droll sarcasm the face conveyed.

"It's also quite an accusation to throw at a couple of Shinigami loitering around my doorstep," Starrk answered, blinking slowly, and Jyuushiro and Shunsui exchanged startled glances.

"Kenshin Akio," he said, with a small bow and a lopsided smile. "At least in this lifetime."

"Ukitake Jyuushiro, Captain of the Thirteenth Division of the Gotei Protection Squads," Ukitake responded immediately, more out of reflex than thought. His bow was measured but polite, and he elbowed the still-gaping Kyouraku in the side as he straightened again.

"Err, Kyouraku Shunsui, Eighth Division Captain," he stammered, still looking rather shell-shocked. "You -"

And he trailed off, scratching his head, clearly with no idea how to complete the sentence. Starrk, rolling his eyes, stepped back and nudged the door further open.

"Why don't you come in," he sighed, and turned to make his way up the stairs without waiting for their response.

The two Captains barely exchanged glances before following.

* * *

Starrk's apartment was on the fourth floor, and he opened the door without pause - it hadn't been locked - and gestured the two Shinigami in behind him without any indication of concern.

The central room was bright and open, with large windows along the far wall, casting light throughout the space. There was no white anywhere in the room - the walls were soft tan and hung with inexpensive but brilliantly-colored art prints, and the furniture and throw rugs on the polished hardwood floors were all in shades of blue and green, some threadbare, but all clearly chosen with comfort and color in mind. A container garden of sorts occupied much of the floor space in front of the windows, flowering plants of a dozen varieties a riot of color and life.

There was a young blonde girl in a school blouse and skirt sitting at the scratched Western-style kitchen table, drumming her stocking heels against the legs of her chair. She had been glowering at the notebooks spread across the table in front of her, but glanced up, blinking, as they entered.

"Please tell me those aren't your boyfriends," she muttered, and Starrk grabbed a house slipper off the shoe rack by the door and chucked it at her head. Kyouraku, meanwhile, set a reassuring hand on Ukitake's shoulder, squeezing gently when he felt Jyuushiro tense.

"These are just some old friends, Mari," Starrk answered, catching the slipper effortlessly when she snatched it off the table and hurled it back at him. "Can you do your homework in your room, please? I'd like to talk to them for a bit."

"But I just got set up -"

"Mari!" Starrk barked, and the girl shut her mouth with a snap. Clearly, she knew exactly where the limit of her impudence lay.

It didn't stop her from grumbling as she gathered up her books and backpack, but she stomped her way out of the room without another word.

"I still feel like I should apologize for her," sighed Starrk as he waved the two of them to the table and filled the kettle, "even though you, at least, know full well what she's like," he said, nodding to Ukitake, who laughed.

"She's a spirited child," he acknowledged. "Certainly, her new name suits her."

"Don't remind me," sighed Starrk, plunking the kettle onto the burner and turning to bury his head in the dented fridge, rummaging for sweets. "I don't know what our parents were thinking, calling her that."

"Your parents?" Ukitake echoed immediately, his gaze brightening. "So you have someone looking out for you, now?"

But Starrk only shook his head in response as he returned to the table, a plate of small cakes in hand. "No. Car crash, ten years ago. She wasn't even walking yet," he added, nodding to the short hallway his sister had disappeared down. "I adopted her as soon as I was able, and it's been just the two of us ever since. Just like always."

The last words were spoken with mingled amusement and resignation, and Ukitake winced sympathetically, half-reaching out to touch Starrk's hand, but the sharp whistle of the kettle stopped him short.

"It can't be easy, looking after her when you're so young yourself," Kyouraku ventured as Starrk clattered china around at the counter. "How do you provide?"

"I write novels," the former Espada answered dryly, glancing back over his shoulder, grey eye amused through a curtain of brown hair. "Dystopian fantasy fiction. I had a lot of material from my dreams, even before the specifics came back."

The answer was enough to pull a wan smile out of both men, but Ukitake was frowning again by the time Starrk returned to the table, tea tray in hands.

"She doesn't remember, at least," Starrk murmured, as much to himself as to the two Captains. "I think that makes it easier on us both."

"I must confess to some curiosity - how is it that _you_ remember, Starrk-san? We thought Ichigo-kun was the key to triggering the Espada's memories, but you never came in contact with him," Kyouraku mused, accepting a cup of tea with a polite nod.

"I never came in _direct_ contact with him, not here," Starrk corrected, handing over Ukitake's tea. "I bumped into him briefly in Hueco Mundo, just enough for our reiatsu to interact. Then he and Grimmjow plopped down at the cafe across the street the morning of the last battle." Starrk paused, hands frozen in the middle of pouring his own cup. "I met Ichigo's eyes across the street. It was only for a second. I'm not sure he even noticed, but that was all it took."

Very carefully, so that the faint tremor in his hands wouldn't show, Starrk set the teapot back on the tray and wrapped both hands around the small, chipped cup, undoubtedly burning his fingers on the tea-heated china. He spoke the next words staring down into the murky green liquid. "I ditched class that morning after I got Lili to school, and spent a few hours tracking down the rest of the old Arrancar. There's over thirty of us here in Karakura, Espada, Privaron, and Fraccion alike, but none of them seem to have any memories of their past lives."

"I suppose that's a relief," Kyouraku answered, even as he and Ukitake conducted a silent conversation across the table, words spoken with flickers of eyebrows and the twist of their mouths.

"Starrk-san," Ukitake began, retrieving a piece of paper and a pen that Lillinette had abandoned on the table when she left, "there is a small shop named the Urahara Shoten a short while from here. I'm giving you the address and phone number," he explained, the pen etching quick, neat characters into the paper. "It's run by some old friends of ours, who are very understanding of... things. If there is ever anything you or Lillinette-chan need, simply ask them, or have them relay a message to myself or Kyouraku, and we will see that it is taken care of."

Frowning, Starrk set his cup down with an irritated thump. "Just because I wound up dead when I fought you two doesn't make me your charity case, Captains. You were stronger and you fought harder. There's nothing to feel guilty about."

"It isn't -" Ukitake began, flustered, pink touching high on his cheeks, but Kyouraku cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"If you won't take charity, then how about employment?" he asked, and smirked faintly when both Ukitake and Starrk fell silent. "The Gotei doesn't have the resources at the moment to be chasing around all these former Arrancar, keeping an eye on them. We had to lie to the Soutaichou to come here and look in on you, actually. But you're smart and observant, and Jyuu and I trust you and your judgement. If you'd be willing to keep an eye on the rest of your former fellows for us, we'd arrange for generous compensation for you in return. More than enough for you to stop worrying, so that we can have the same luxury."

"You trust me," Starrk echoed, a bit dubious, but he was eyeing the paper in Ukitake's hand a little less narrowly now. "Why?"

Both Captains shrugged.

"Aizen had more good people following him than he could corrupt," Ukitake replied after a moment. "The last battle proved that."

Kyouraku snorted. "One blind man, one who never opened his eyes, and I think Sousuke saw the least of them all."

"Well, then," Starrk answered after a moment of hesitation, saluting them both with his teacup, "here's to foresight."

"Kanpai," Kyouraku grinned back as he and Ukitake raised their cups, and the three drank their tea in contented quiet, each with a few old worries laid to rest.

* * *

~O~

* * *

*Starrk is twenty and in college here, while Lillinette is twelve.

*Starrk's apartment being on the fourth floor is a joke as well; in Japanese, the number four is pronounced 'shi,' and is a homonym for 'death.'

*The title, obvs, is a play on Starrk's release.

I'm debating making this a two-shot, if not a min-series, depending on how long the inspiration lasts. Starrk is a great character, and the four of them had great potential for interaction that wasn't allowed to play out to the extent it could and should have. So comments, questions, suggestions, all welcome as they always are!


End file.
